The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology (52 page)

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.

“Finally, do you understand that if you do encourage a strike,
directly or indirectly, I will immediately rescind my suspension of
your sentences?”

“Uh --”

Donne waved an index finger once.

“Yes, sir.”

“Emily, see these gentlemen out, give them each a DVD of our
time together, at our expense, and get them transport back to New
York, at their expense, or let them arrange their own, if they
prefer.”

“Yes, sir.

“Gentlemen?”

The five were escorted out, leaving Donne and the four attorneys and
their clients alone with the agents and guards. Donne went back to
his papers until Emily returned a few moments later.

“All taken care of, Mr. Donne.”

“Good, good.

“Now, gentlemen and … oh.” He reached under his
desk and the plexiglass cage rotated back under the floor, leaving
Ms. Skinner breathing room air again. She climbed quickly out of the
chair, her chest heaving, and headed toward Donne's desk, fists
clenched.

“You – you --” she spluttered.

-107-

Thursday, March 15, 2012

11:43 a.m.

Bonita Beach, Florida

“Oh, geez, not yet for me,” Pam spluttered.

“At least you gave it a try, and almost all the way in,”
Jake replied.

“I don't know how you can stand it.”

“It's not that bad, Pam. Plus, I made the resolution, and I
always stick to my resolutions.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Back when I was a teenager, I made one to never
eat broccoli, asparagus, brussels sprouts, cauliflower, turnips, kale
and a bunch of other stuff like that … oh, and tofu ... and
I've stuck to that one for nearly fifty years.”

“Really?”

“Yup. And I've done the same with this one; only missed twice,
and that's because the rains came in early, about 10:30.”

“Well, that's forgivable, I guess,” she said, wrapping
herself in her towel and shivering in her chair.

“Yup. And it's getting a little warmer now, so it's not as bad
as a month ago.”

“What'd I hear? 71 degrees?”

“That's about right.”

“But why did you make that resolution in the first place?”

“I don't know; it was a pretty stupid ass one. But later on, I
came up with three justifications.”

“Yeah?”

“Or maybe rationalizations.

“First, the salt water's good for my aging shoulder joints.”

“Okay.”

“Second, the showers don't feel quite as cold after being in
the Gulf.”

“Yeah.”

“And back in January and February, when the water was ten
degrees colder, I was shivering so much I'm sure I was losing at
least a pound a minute.”

Pam chuckled. So did the Mimosa twins, but quietly; Sharon's raspy
roar echoed in their earbuds.

“So every day?”

“If I come to the beach, yeah, up to my neck. Oh, I skipped
the couple weeks after I got those stitches last summer; doctor's
orders.”

“Forgivable.”

“Right.”

“The ones on your shoulder have healed up pretty well; just a
small scar.”

“Matches the one on your left shoulder.”

“Symmetry.”

“Mirror images.”

Pam sighed. “I love it when they rub together.”

“So do I, ma'am,” Jake drawled, smiling.

“Let's do that again soon, Tex.”

“Tex?”

“When you drawl, it sounds like Texas.”

“And yours is like a fine Southern belle, maybe Georgia or
South Carolina.”

“Like Myrtle Beach?”

“Well, MB is more of a tourist town, so lotsa mixed accents
there. But Savannah, now, you'd fit right in.”

“Why, I thank you ver' much fo' that, suh.”

“Yore quat welcome, Belle.”

“Belle? Hmm. I like that.” She pulled her towel away
and lay back, soaking up the sun. “Oh, that feels a lot
better. I do love the sun.”

“That's two of us. I'll bet you missed it a lot on that London
job.”

“Oh, yeah, but that was January, and only a week.”

“And it was a little chilly here that week. I think I only got
to the beach three days.”

“Wow. Did you have withdrawal pains?”

“If they'd been in a row, I probably would have.”

“I'd love to be as addicted as you are.”

“You're getting there.”

“I love the summer here.”

“Yup. Warmer water, no crowds.”

“Like now. What'd you guess, a thousand people today?”

Jake sat up and looked around. “Maybe; I can't count crowds
well.”

“Used to do that all the time in the Service. If you like,
I'll show you how.”

“Nah, I'll leave that to you; you're the expert. It is really
crowded, though. And not just on the beach.”

“At least we were able to get into Pineapple Pete's, with that
great bay view, for Marti's birthday party.”

“Well, her sister reserved the tables in the chickee.”

“It was nice to see her and Dave again. And Paul and Gayle,
too.”

“Yeah. And did you see his smile when I told him we took his
suggestion?”

“Yeah, he fairly beamed.”

“I don't think I coulda even started that without your help.
We've definitely got to find a way to give you some credit.”

“No, no, Jake, no need.”

“Oh, c'mon, at least think about it. We could change your
name.”

“Okay, Jake; I'll think about it.”

“Ready to get back at it?”

“Back at it? That was five hours ago. But I'm ready.”

“Oh, no, not that; the book.”

“Oh,” Pam fake-pouted. “Sure; let me get my
notes.”

“Okay.”

Pam reached into her beach bag, pulled out a couple sheets of paper
and looked them over for a moment.

“Okay.

“On the currency swap, are you going granular or macro on
that?”

“A little bit of both, I think. Got him doing an announcement
and then going into details with some of the players, with dialogue.
But when I get into how people react around the world, I think
macro'll work better.

“I'm also thinking about trying to squeeze in something that
ties in to Bonita, just for fun, and what I'm thinking of is maybe
putting in something about the Bali Hai.”

“Bali Hai? What's that?”

“It's an old resort over on Old 41, was a health spa back in
the Twenties, built around the spring that gave Bonita its name. I
think Al Capone spent some time there in the thirties, and I was
thinking maybe I could put something in about him burying some money
on the grounds and never coming back for it. But if people started
digging for it there and maybe even found it, it'd be worthless.”

“Oh, I like that. Futility.”

“I'll show you the place next time we're out and about. Maybe
some rainy morning we can pop up to Cafe Mesureé for
breakfast or brunch; it's on Wilson Street, right behind the little
grocery store there on Old 41, and Bali Hai is on the way there.”

“Think we can get in? In season?”

“We probably won't have much of a wait if we time it ri- --”

“Hey, Jake.”

“Oh, hey, Birgitte. How's it going?”

“Great. Hi, Pam.”

“Hi, Birgitte.”

“Jake, if you can, swing around and watch this.”

“What's going on?”

Birgitte looked at her watch as Jake sat up and looked toward where
she was pointing. Pam swiveled her chair, as well.

“Wait, wait. Okay. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Hmm. Our
watches must be off. Any second now.”

“What are we waiting for?”

“Ah, there he goes.” She pointed to her husband,
Karsten, who was looking at his watch and then stood up and pressed a
button on a boom box.

“One for the money,” he blared out, singing with the
background music from the boombox.

“Two for the show,” some other people sang as they, too,
stood up.

“Three to get ready,” even more people joined in, and
they all started dancing toward and around Karsten, breaking into a
fairly well choreographed and mostly on-key rendition of “Blue
Suede Shoes.”

“Oh, Jake, a flash mob,” Pam said, quietly joining in the
singing, but not the dancing, staying in her chair.

“Not bad, not bad at all,” Jake replied, and started to
hum along.

“He's good, isn't he, Jake?”

“Yes, he is, Birgitte.”

“He got the whole thing going with the Hysterical Society.”

“The Gator Day people?” Pam asked.

“Yup,” Birgitte replied.

“Cool.”

When the mob finished with that one, they segued into “You
Ain't Nothin' But a Hound Dog,” then “Jailhouse Rock,”
finishing with “Love Me Tender,” bowing to a noisy round
of applause, hoots and hollers, and then all the singers slowly
blended back into the crowd, back into their chairs and onto their
towels, people near them starting to chat with them, smiling and
laughing. Even the Incontinentals got involved.

“Cool,” Pam said, finished applauding.

“Look, Pam. See what's happening?”

“What?” She looked around at the crowds. “Oh,
yeah.”

“Not a bad icebreaker.”

“Cool.”

“I'm getting to like the Hysterical Society more and more.”

“Me, too.” Pam swiveled her chair back to facing Jake
and held her index finger and thumb an inch or so apart.

“Sooo, big Amellican sodier boy, you wan' ruv me tenda? Cheepy,
cheepy, velly nicey-nicey.”

“Oh, god, Pam, Vietnamese, too?”

“Velly nicey-nicey, make Stevie Blucie velly happy.” She
held her finger/thumb gesture out again. Jake returned the gesture
and laughed.

“Whatever happened to my dear Belle?”

“Oh, Ah'm in heah, too. But yuh'll hafta dig deep ta find me.”

“I can do that. What are we waiting for? Let's go.”

“We'll watch your stuff,” Norm and Janet said, again in
unison, and Jill whisper-giggled into her beach bag, “Here we
go again.”

Sharon's raspy voice came back over her earbuds. “Oh, joy.”

-108-

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

5:19 p.m.

The Oval Office

Washington, DC

Ms. Skinner climbed quickly out of the chair, her chest heaving, and
headed toward Donne's desk, fists clenched.

“You – you --” she spluttered.

She got no more than three feet from the chair before two guards
grabbed her arms and restrained her, while she struggled and cursed
Donne.

Donne sat placidly behind his desk, looking directly at her with a
mixture of curiosity and bemusement.

“Now, now, Ms. Skinner, I'd suggest that you settle down and
let us have a nice quiet chat … unless you'd prefer more time
in your chair and cage.”

“You have no right to restrain me in that … that …
that ...”

“I call it the Madonna cage, Ms. Skinner, and I have every
right to restrain you or anybody whose behavior, attitude or
verbalization calls for it … totally at my discretion. You
are a guest in my house, however you choose to interpret that.

“Now, are you prepared to have a reasonable conversation about
your client's behavior and his future … and your own?”

Deflated but still belligerent, Ms. Skinner only nodded.

“Good.

“Now I am going to speak directly and solely to your client and
the other three clients, and you will remain silent … or go
back in the cage. Do you understand that?”

Ms. Skinner, arms crossed over her still-substantial stomach, nodded.

“I need a verbal response for the record.”

“Yeah.”

“A clear verbal response.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good.

“Now, gentlemen, you heard what I told the five guys who just
left this office. Did you understand everything I told them?”

The four union bosses all nodded. Donne pointed to his mouth, and
the four all responded, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.

“Everything I told them applies to you and your memberships,
other than military oversight … for now; I reserve the right
to call them in if and when I deem it appropriate. Do you understand
that?”

“Yes, sir,” the four said simultaneously. Ms. Skinner
turned away and walked over to her fellow attorneys. Donne glanced
at her only briefly, then back to the four union guys.

“I am imposing and temporarily suspending the same punishment I
did on them on all four of you, as of this moment. And I will put
this in language the four of you can definitely understand. Do.
Not. Fuck. This. Up. Got it?”

All four again said, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.

“Now, Ms. Skinner, do you have anything to say?”

“I object to --”

“Overruled.

“Anything else?”

“You can't --”

“All right, Ms. Skinner. I see we're going to get nowhere.
You are hereby disbarred in each and every state in which you are
licensed … permanently. That punishment is NOT suspended, but
takes effect immediately, right now.

“Additionally, all of your assets … again, not your
liabilities; you keep those … are hereby forfeited to the
United States Treasury. I will not incarcerate you, but I reserve
the right to do so at any time I deem appropriate.

“Emily, have these people escorted back to their cells to
gather their belongings, give each of them a DVD of both this and the
previous discussion, at our expense, and then have them escorted out
to the street and their freedom.”

“Yes, Mr. Donne.

“Gentlemen, ma'am, follow me.”

The nine left the room, escorted by both Secret Service agents and
guards. As they left, Donne returned to his inbox.

Ten minutes later, Emily returned and said, “All set, Gordy.”

“Thanks, Em. By the way, did it look like I actually forgot
she was in the cage?”

“Oh, yeah; you pulled that off really well.”

“And the oops on the blue vapor?”

“Same; looked like you really meant it.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“And the Madonna cage worked perfectly.”

“Come a long way with that since Vienna, hasn't it?”

“Absolutely, Gordy.”